


Meeting the Family

by BatFamImagines (thedarkknightsbatfamily)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bat Family, Fluff, Meet the Family, Meeting the Parents, Other, Reader-Insert, genderless reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8659498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkknightsbatfamily/pseuds/BatFamImagines
Summary: While you’d met the occasional member of Bruce’s Brood one or twice, even exchanged a few words with some of them - this was the first time you’d meet them as… as Bruce’s date.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **wowjeena asked:  
> **  
>  Yo! Can you do something where the Bat family reacts to Brucexreader?
> 
>  
> 
> [Posted on Tumblr here](http://batfamimagines.tumblr.com/post/143996623140/yo-can-you-do-something-where-the-bat-family)

Bruce was fidgeting.   
Which you found _hilarious._  
Sure, you were freaking out slightly too, but you weren’t _Batman._  
And yes, ordinarily, Batman being nervous would scare the crap out of you, _and_ most of Gotham… if Gotham even _had_ ordinary days.   
But this wasn’t an ordinary day.   
There wasn’t an alien invasion or a rash of Joker Gas-related murders.   
You were going to meet the ‘Bat Family.’  
And yes, you’d met most of them around town, sometimes in costume, sometimes not… It was Gotham, shit happens.   
But this _was_ different, because while you’d met the occasional member of Bruce’s Brood one or twice, even exchanged a few words with some of them - this was the first time you’d meet them as… as Bruce’s date.   
Which you also found just the tiniest bit ridiculous, because Bruce was sure none of them knew before he’d told them last night that he was going to bring you over, and that was so _weird_ because they were supposed to be raised by the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’, and you’d think they could figure out that Bruce was dating someone.  
Then again, it was _Bruce_.   
Having a real relationship… you could see why Bruce’s family was surprised.   
Not that you didn’t worry about that sometimes. The playboy billionaire, the bat-themed vigilante-superhero - neither one were the type to be attracted to _you._ But then there were times like this, where Bruce was so _open_.   
Bruce fidgeted with his cuffs again and you laughed. Only Bruce would wear a tux to a private meeting with his own family. Then again, you weren’t complaining. Tuxes were _sexy._  “You look great.”   
Bruce’s head darted up and his eyes met yours. “That’s not the point,” he chided with a patented Bruce Wayne smile, a touch of warmth in his eyes making the smile more genuine than anything the public would ever see. Then, sliding forward to press a kiss on your neck, he added lowly, “You look amazing too.”   
“I never said _amazing,”_ you teased back.   
“It was in subtext,” he easily rebutted.    
You snort and hold out out your arm. “Shall we?”   
  
—  
  
Bruce parked the car - expensive, flashy, overrated, with a complicated name you couldn’t be bothered remembering - in the garage behind Wayne Manor.   
He’d decided against having a driver pick you both up from your apartment, and you’d enthusiastically agreed.   
Sure the car may be a useless extravagant expense, but a private drive around Gotham in a fancy foreign car with your boyfriend… there was just a touch of that cheesy romance you pretended to hate that you couldn’t resist.   
Even more so when he actually opened your car door for you, holding out his hand to help you out.   
“Dork,” you said, taking his hand and standing up.   
He pulled you close, into a kiss, hands falling onto your hips as yours tangled in his hair, worrying only a little bit that he might’ve put some effort into it that you’d just ruined as you deepened the kiss.   
Then there was a cough and you froze, even as Bruce pulled away with an easy, rehearsed smile at his butler.   
Well, wasn’t this a cliche?   
Bruce’s arms were still keeping you close, but all you could see was the slight orchestration in his pose, all you could think about was how many times he’d probably done this with all the other girls and boys he’d brought home, the whoops-I’ve-accidentally-gotten-caught-sneaking-in-my-current-fling act.   
So you slipped out of his grip and smiled awkwardly at the butler. “Hey.” You’d met Alfred a few times before, at Bruce’s parties, but, since you and Bruce weren’t technically together at those times, you’d never had a real reason to talk to him except being offered wine or asking where the bathroom is.   
Because Alfred was a Real Life British Butler. Sarcastic, proper, prim… _British._  
Also… a butler? It’s 2016. What does the guy get out of this? It sorta seemed like maybe the guy was living in the past, or something.   
You didn’t know. You also didn’t know how to react around him. Should you fall into the role of an upper class Victorian, act even more prim and proper than the butler? Where exactly was the guidebook on this? ‘ _Help, my boyfriend has an actual butler’._  
Step 1: Maybe not stare at him with a strained smile.   
“Hello,” you tried.   
“It is nice to finally be acquainted with you formally,” Alfred replied calmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”   
You open your mouth and shut it again. “Right.”   
Bruce’s arm reached out and put a hand on your hip, hugging you to the side of his chest, before his hand trailed to the small of your back. “The family inside?” he asked in a severe tone.   
But his fingers danced on your back and you remembered how nervous he was before.   
“In the drawing room,” Alfred said, then bowed out with an “If you’ll excuse me.”   
Bruce’s fingers were still tapping against your back and you looked at him sidelong. “You gonna play Bruce Wayne all night?”   
Bruce blinked at you, then looked away, not denying it. “Sorry,” he offered.   
You huff, secretly pleased that you’d begun to actually notice things like this, when he was pretending and when he wasn’t. Honestly you were a genius.   
He brushed the back of his hand against yours. “Shall we?” he asked, parroting you from before.   
You give him a skeptical look, but allow yourself to be led into the Manor.   
  
—  
  
If you could sum up the Manor’s design in one word…it would be: expensive.   
You weren’t even sure if there was something connecting the design all together, unless ‘flashback-version-of-a-haunted-house-in-a-movie’ was a theme.   
So you were led through corridors filled with random vases and paintings to the drawing room. You’d been in the house once or twice before, mostly for Wayne Charity Balls and the like.   
Bruce hesitated just a second before the drawing room entrance, and then you both entered.   
The room fell silent immediately.  
Which wasn’t ominous.   
Totally.   
Bruce’s hand was back on the small of your back.   
You counted the eyes on you. Five. Five, unblinking sets of eyes looking you up and down. Judging you.   
No. They were crime fighters. They were probably just assessing you for threats or whatever.   
You resisted the urge to tuck your hair behind your ear or scratch at your elbow and smiled instead, hoping that you wouldn’t come off too dimwitted just because you weren’t a superhero and also because you had no idea what’s a good opening line for meeting your boyfriend’s family.   
Barbara Gordon - the Commissioner’s daughter - smiled back at you. Richard Grayson - whose name was technically Dick, but there was _no way_ you were going to say that aloud until every other person in the room had said it at least once because calling someone Dick was just…anyway, _Richard’s_ arm was slung over her shoulders casually.   
You and Bruce sat down on the empty sofa at the head of the room, Bruce crossing his ankles in front of him.   
Damian stared you down from across the room. “Do you have any special skills?” he asked bluntly.   
“Pardon?”   
Damian looked exasperated. “Special skills. I assume you can do something of interest?”   
And there went any chance of you ever impressing any of these guys. You let your smile brighten, well aware you definitely looked like an idiot at this point. “Nope.”   
Damian looked at you skeptically. “Right.” Then he turned back to his book. Apparently you’d lost his favor.   
Bruce’s hand fell to your hip. “Damian has a black and white view of people,” he explained as if that was supposed to make it better.   
“Civilians only wind up getting hurt,” Damian replied, not looking up from his book. “It’s hardly my fault your flavor of the month wouldn’t last ten seconds in a fight.”   
“They’re not my ‘flavor of the month’,” Bruce said, a dark tone entering his voice.   
“Yeah, we’ve been dating for almost six months now,” you piped in because you have no sense of control, obviously.   
Damian peered at you over the top of his book, huffed and then returned to it.   
Bruce made a noise at the back of his throat and surveyed the room, almost daring them to make similar comments.   
The one you didn’t know - Red Hood, you were sure - leant back with exaggerated casualness. “That’s like six flavors,” the man commented.   
Sitting next to him, Tim glared at him. “What a great addition to the conversation,” he said dryly.   
“Hey, I’m just trying to fix Damian’s mood ruining.”   
Damian scoffed. “Because us all sitting here pretending this is going to all work out is a genuinely entertaining experience.”   
Red Hood stretched and shrugged. “That’s what we said when we first met you.”   
Damian’s eyes flashed. “Are you even still part of the Family?”   
“At least I _earned_ my place here,” he retorted. “I didn’t just turn up one day with a birth certificate and demand a position.”   
“No, you just tried to rob us.”   
Jason made a noise. “You weren’t even born then.”   
Damian opened his mouth, but Richard cut in.   
“Can’t we all just get along,” he bemoaned exaggeratedly.   
The two boys glared at each other but said nothing more.   
Oh yeah, this was going to be fun. 


End file.
